Moonlight Serenity
by Merovia
Summary: Rhett Butler in a happy moment. Due to the nagging demand of one Bella Lestrange... chapter two, a prequel, now added ;  Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

An unforgiving moon spread its silvery glow over the night clad city. Dispersing silently but insistently the creeping shadows of night time. A cat stretched luxuriously as it was caught in the light of one of the glowing rays – apparently paying homage to the lunar lady who so elegantly helped it in its quest for glory on the hunting field. Glory which would eventually lead to a full belly to sleep away the day with.

Not many other signs of life was visible in this part of the slumbering city. Silence reigned here amongst the residential houses of the well to do – or rather once well to do – families of Atlanta. Though it was less obvious by night than in the scorching unforgiving light of day, it was still clear that the stately houses were in a state very far from pristine. Though none of the inhabitants would have cared to admit – much less admit to notice this sore point. But a less wilfully blind eye would definitely notice the scalding paint, the loose hinges and the general lack of renovation that the general neighbourhood suffered from.

But alas the story of the misery of the once glorious South is not the object of this tale. No, the object of this short tale will present himself shortly. Now shh... listen...

With a dissatisfied flick of its tail our feline friend of just before jumped out of its silver spotlight as its keen ears discerned a disturbance in the silence of the night. A disturbance caused by something very much bigger than it would have assumed an appropriate prey.

Even as it disappeared a slight scrunching sound penetrated the still night air – audible now to the human ear as well. A rythmic scrunching of loose stones on the pavement. A night time stroller – both unusual and not so much in this neighbourhood. To be fair – most men who lived in this pretty part of town went from time to time on nightly ventures. Such were the times that though not openly discussed nor even openly acknowledged by the fine women who reigned like queens by day – it was in a roundabout way accepted that men had other needs than women – and therefore society turned its blind eye towards men wandering the streets at night seeking the pleasure they could not find at home.

Mind you – most of these men would walk slowly – trying to blend in with the surroundings, sinking into the shadows of the street. If anyone should happen to come upon them during their outings that person should have no cause to feel obliged to notice the other – thus keeping up the charade that such a thing did not exist. Thus were the morals of the time, if not acknowledged one could always claim innocence and ride one's high horse with pretend purity of mind.

When first the men arrived at their final destination this need for silence and invisibility would be cast away with their cloaks. The rules of the rigid outside world and society "propre" would seize to exist, and they would indulge themselves openly, noisily, gaily in what ever entertainment would be presented to them. There they could even acknowledge one another. The houses of joy as they were - perhaps appropriately perhaps not so much – named – depending from which point of view you looked at the matter – were free zones. Out of reach – beyond the touch of the elegant ladies that they had wed or courted.

But not out here in the streets, here anonymity had to be kept whenever the city was draped in its nightly cloak.

Therefore the lightly springing steps of this person stood out, a mocking insult almost to the other lurking shadows of the night.

Now he stepped from the shadow of the buildings into the open, where the moon still cast it enticing rays. For it was a he. A finely build man. Tall. Broad shoulders. Well tailored suit. Which in its pristine condition also stood out against the general disrepair of the neighbourhood.

His face was the only thing hidden from any curious eyes, the wide brim of the hat that he bore even now at night effectively bared any curious glance cast from the shadowy dark eyes of the surrounding houses from diving his identity. Or at least anyone unfamiliar with the set of Atlanta, because to any true resident the identity of this man would not be any more difficult to guess than what the final words of the priest prayer on the following Sunday would be.

It was of course Rhett Butler. None other than he could carry a suit in such a well fitted way. Let alone have the money to pay for it. But one thing would be to guess his identity, a lot more challenging task would be to guess what said man were doing in this neighbourhood at this ungodly hour. And with such spring in his steps? Showing contempt even now for the hypocritical ways of society. Though – truth be told it did not seem like his objective with this night time stroll was so cause a stir. No... actually he seemed quite oblivious to the fact that he was acting inappropriately.

Yes... she had actually said Yes.

He whistled a small tune to himself and smiled. A genuine smile. Which caused a spark to emerge in his eyes, dark by nature and now made even darker by the wide brim of the hat.

He could still feel the touch of her lips against his. And the echo of the warm imprint of her body against his.

He was surprised at how passionately she had responded to his kiss. It was like that night of flames and fighting – the night Atlanta fell... the night where he had first spoken of his feelings. A crazy rush had come over him then, fuelled on by the hopelessness of the situation. He had sensed it in her response then... A desperate, desperate hunger begging to be satisfied. To be honest he had then dismissed it as being ignited largely by the general despair of the situation on that god forsaken night.

Tonight however she had responded with the same fierceness, melting into him as she went soft and compliant under his touch. Or as compliant as that catty fiery woman ever could be.

He laughed out loud. The cat which had sat lurking in the shadows hoping for the disturbance to disappear and its chance of foraging to re-emerge Miaw'ed dissatisfied. Sensing that its hunting ground had been sorely ruined by this additional sound.

How he looked forward to possessing her completely. Peeling of the thin layers of varnish that had galvanized her into the mould of a Southern Lady – or at least given her the resemblance of one.

His happiness however was not without shards. A ghost casting a shadow into his heart. A ghost of her past. The esteemable Ashley Wilkes. He couldn't fathom how she could still hold that shadow of a man so stubbornly in her heart. Even tonight, the man, though not physically present had managed to stick in his gilded head. He had sensed it in the far away look that only crept into her face when Ashley Wilkes was in her mind.

But he was determined – determined to banish that silly dream of her childhood beaux from her stubborn mind. So he had decided to ignore that threat.

And how she had responded to his kiss had given him hope. He would have to remember to kiss her that way often.

"Stop – please – I'm faint" she had uttered breathlessly. Cheeks flushed, heavy breath, causing her partly covered bosoms to rise and fall in the most enticing way.

He had come to her with the intent of asking her to marry her. But nevertheless it hadn't played out as he had planned. Things rarely did when Scarlett was involved – perhaps that was what he found so intriguing about her. Normally he was in full control, and could manipulate his way out of most situations. However, even though he could rile and infuriate Scarlett the outcome was rarely what he had originally had in mind.

She was a challenge and he had never backed down from a challenge.

He smiled again and slowly continued his meandering walk through almost deserted streets.

He had to get up in a few hours to catch a train, but he knew he had to forego sleep for yet some time. The evenings events were causing short circuits in his brain as snippets of their conversation kept popping into his mind and would effectively keep him from sleeping even if he would have tried to surrender himself to that pastime. He had therefore deemed it futile to go back to the hotel and instead decided to let his mind run free under the starry night sky.

He had learned another curious thing about his intended wife – for all her sharp business wit and logical reasoning abilities she had a deep rooted fear of being doomed to an eternity in hell. It was the first time she had ever admitted to being afraid – at least when not under fire.

She was so full of contrasts and contradictions that it shouldn't have surprised him. But it had... though the realisation of the mind webs she had created for herself on that topic had almost made him laugh out loud he had managed to keep a straight face and help her in all her drunken sadness. At least he felt he had.

Curiously how the threat of burning in hell and her mothers disapproval from beyond the grave actually seemed like the only things that could really greatly shake his Scarlett to the core. That and perhaps the wooden headed gentleman Mr Wilkes.

He buried his hands deep in his coat pockets as the unavoidable thought had sneaked it way into his train of thoughts.

With an effort he banished the last part of that thought from his head. He did not want to waste any more thoughts on that man tonight. He wanted to rejoice in the happiness he had felt when she had said yes. Remember the unconscious light in her eyes as he had promised her happiness.

She was so spontaneous and untamed beneath her polished exterior. The mask she bore had fallen partially during her dealings with the sawmills and even to some extend during the was – revealing the rock hard mind underneath her dimpled cheeks. He couldn't help but admire that sense of survival and spirit that had enabled her to go against the norms of society and successfully establish several successful businesses. She was brave – brave but also vulnerable.

He felt a pinch in his heart as he remembered the naked fear and desperation she had revealed as she spoken of her nightmare. She had endured much... conquered much. She had had to... no one else had been there to help. Not even him he acknowledged with a sting. But that would change now. He would be there to help and support her. Help, support and teach her to broaden her horizon. Educate her ignorant mind. He only hoped that he would be allowed. He envisioned how she would be a magnificent woman someday.

He smiled to himself at how she had tried to hide the greedy gleam in her eyes that had ignited at the thought of his money... But he hadn't been fooled. Well at least his money would enable him to help her, and Scarlett was far to mercenary to let stupid pride stand in the way of monetary gain.

That was another thing he wouldn't care about. He didn't care if his money had been partial in buying him into the bargain he had engaged in... Money was only part of it. He felt confident in that.

Again his mind circled back to her response to his kisses and the twang of disappointment that had been evident in her demeanour (though she tried to conceal and dismiss it) when he had denied her more. It filled him with hope and joy for the future. If only he could kiss her to the point of fainting he knew they could conquer all. Those kisses would be his admission pass to her mind and soul.

The rest were just obstacles to overcome. In his mind their future played out happily and gaily. They would be a happy couple... a happy handsome couple. He had never felt so full of love or so willing to give.

Optimistically he strode forward, a grin spreading onto his face as he envisioned how Scarlett would one day confess her love for him. He hoped the day would not be to far into the future.

Well... it would at least be a year. A year... it seemed like an eternity before he could make her compliant under his touch... In the meantime he would have to find her a ring. A ring which would make her smile and welcome him back.

Whistling he disappeared into the looming shadows.

Behind him the lurking cat jumped into the moonlight again. It's green feline eyes following him keenly until no sound of his springing footsteps could be heard. Then it flicked its tail, the passer-by was not its concern. Its life largely undisturbed by the temporary happiness of this man.

_**Hope joy enjoyed - please review ;)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N By Frank (he he) Demand... please find here chapter two of this little unintentional story. It is a lot shorter than it could have been - yet longer than it might have been - when the rush have subsided I might go back and rewrite/add-on... but the impatient nagging of some dear fellow writer and an irresistible wager caused it to come out this way at this time.**

**I really hope you will enjoy this - my take - on what might have been going on in the hours before the proposal and drunken acceptance of said proposal.**

**Well... read on and don't forget to tell me what you think ;)**

When Rhett Butler entered his dressing room after breakfast this particular spring morning he swept a cursory glance over the immaculate clothes that the resident valet of the National hotel had made ready for him.

Taking in the dark colours he frowned slightly and paused. "Majutu, please... I asked you to lay out the green silk vest for me"

"Also – please prepare the gray pantaloons for me instead of these black ones"

"Yes Mr Rhett" Majutu responded reluctantly. A frown matching and surpassing that of his temporary master's clear in his weathered feature. Though he was serving at a hotel, rather than at a large house which he had before the war. His standards and the dignity with which he performed his tasks matched even the most noble of the former house servants that the South had known before the war. However Master Butler did tip handsomely thus it did not pay to show ones displeasure to clearly.

"Don't give me that look Majutu – I know what you think... well it is not a close relative of mine who I have to see being laid to rest so I will wear anything I darn well see fit" Though the words could seem unkind, they were uttered with humour and a warm glint in the eye. Majutu had served him well since his first visit to Atlanta in the early days of the war, and was one of the few surviving constants from that time.

"Very well" With a bow Majutu set about the required task. He held Rhett Butler in great esteem. Apart from his generous tips, Majutu had always known him as kind man who showed a great respect for him and his job. Majutu of course knew of the gossip and rumours that seemed to follow Rhett Butler wherever he went. No doubt many of them were true, nevertheless he liked the man who didn't sell himself short or submitted to the general hypocrisy of polite society.

When alone Rhett undid his morning robe and slid into the hot bath that had been prepared for him. Enjoying the feel of the warm water and generous bubbles which crackled and pricked against his skin.

He leaned back and slowly let himself sink deeper into the water until his ears were covered. Muffling the soft noises from the general hubbub of activity in the hotel completely.

Tranquillity at last. Though unfortunately the water did not block out his own thoughts.

A few minutes later Majutu returned with the green silk vest as requested. And Rhett slid back up in a more upright position.

His eyes followed the efficient movements of the dark man as he laid out the required garments. He stayed silent – didn't want to spoil his new found tranquillity with unnecessary words. And words were clearly uncalled for judging by the skilled handling that Majutu displayed.

When alone again his eyes travelled back to the gleaming green silk of the waist coat. He knew that the gay colour would not in any parts of society be deemed fitting, no matter how extended and limited his acquaintance was with the late Mr Kennedy.

It wasn't that he particularly despised the lately departed man, nor wanted to show him any specific disrespect. It was just that this – probably – was going to be a very special day for him. And he didn't want to be dragged down by drab clothing. It wasn't his way nor was it his style to bow to propriety in such a small matter... and today wouldn't be the day he surrendered. Not when he hoped and planned for it to be such a special day.

He didn't know when the assuredness that one day he would marry Scarlett Kennedy had settled in his mind. Maybe it was the day he learned of her latest pregnancy, maybe it was the day she had shared her darkest secret, maybe it was on a not so special day when the light had caught her determined profile and the haunted hungry look in her eyes and he had promised himself that he would wipe it away and replace it with the carefree look and the lust for life he had seen in her when they had first met so very many years ago.

Perhaps the assuredness went back even further than that. Perhaps to the day she had come to him in his time of imprisonment. Draped in old curtains and with a forced simper on her lips, trying to make with him an impossible deal.

Or perhaps it went back to the day where he had felt the most malicious sting to his heart, and momentarily been knocked speechless by the news of her marriage to Frank Kennedy. The man that they were to lay to rest today.

Odd how circumstances of life played together to create an impossible jigsaw of connections, obligations and expectations.

Frank Kennedy had been the reason he had first met Scarlett – then O'Hara. He had also been a chief reason for his return to Atlanta during the war, and thus an unknowing facilitator of his second meeting with that renowned former belle of four counties.

Later he had been the wedge that bore between them – still unknown to the man himself – as he had wed Scarlett – then Hamilton. And now, his untimely death would facilitate that they would finally be together.

No wonder his head was spinning with thoughts and reflections. Even if he prided himself of his sharp with and unwavering ability to judge everything and everybody in an open eyed way and foresee the outcome of his actions. This was one series of consequences that he would never have been able to map out in advance.

Marriage.

He had truthfully never thought that he would feel inclined to take such a drastic step with anyone.

He knew that was a standoffish attitude given the normal moral code and views of marriage as the only respectable path for men – wealthy men of name and property of course - outside of the clergy. One that had often caused him to be considered an outsider. Men of his lineage had an obligation to secure the next generation – sons to carry the name and the money forward. But he had refused. Vehemently. And paid the price.

How funny – how absurd that he now found himself on the verge of making the commitment he had so long refused.

Marriage... he tasted the word and turned it around in his head.

I do... forever. Forever, for better – for worse. Well he intended for it to be "for better", he didn't want anything bearing any resemblance to the "for worse" that had been the most lenient description he could readily come up with for his parents marriage.

His father would even have approved of the bride. At least her lineage. Out of the respectable Robillard Savannahs. Though her Irish paternal heritage would have been played heavily down in his fathers descriptions of the match. Had he still been alive... which he wasn't. Which was probably good since he was sure that his father would never have approved of the circumstances under which this otherwise respectable match would take place.

Twice married. And now also twice widowed. Mother of two. A business woman, and a shrewd one at that. All fact which would have rendered this otherwise acceptable match of lineages completely unacceptable and undesirable.

Well. His father was dead and would have no say in the matter. No one would. Apart of course for his intended.

But he was sure he could convince her. Even if she did not entertain any current thoughts of obtaining his hand in matrimony.

She didn't love him. But she would love what his bank account could do for her... and her family. And he was sure that she held him in great regard. At least their often frank discussion on business matters told him as much. He felt sure... or almost sure... at least fairly certain. That he was her primary confidante. Who else would she be able to share her strong ideas and view points with. He certainly could not pinpoint another. Not even that excuse of a man that she claimed to hold in such high regard. No for him especially she hid her innermost self... and showed it only to him... the rascal. The blockade runner.

Truthfully she often told him to go away never to return... in less pleasant terms of course. (He smiled softly to himself as he recalled her latest tirade to him). Nevertheless he was sure that she still enjoyed it immensely when next they encountered one another. He could sense the relief in her when she finally again could go on and on about her plans for her business, and wanted his honest opinion on her latest scheme.

This told him that unbeknownst perhaps to herself she did have a special place in her heart for him.

A place that he intended to keep and expand on until he would poses her heart as its principal occupant.

He smiled again as one pleasant tableau after another played out in his head. How she would slowly grow to love him with the passion he held for her. Love him like he loved her. Share herself with him body, mind and soul.

The water was warm against his body, and he could feel how its soft caress enticed him as if it had been the loving caress of his wife to be.

With an effort he disbanded the urge that grew in him. And forced his mind down less "dangerous" paths. He would have to take his sweet time to teach her the pleasures that could be enjoyed and shared between two people. He doubted that she – despite being married twice – would have any idea that pleasure did not have to be something that was only for the man to claim.

Later... later. He sighed. Now more forcefully he steered away from this aspect of marriage. Instead he turned his thoughts to what would come first.

The proposal.

Though highly inappropriate it would have to be today. After the ceremony.

He would have to leave tomorrow. He had planned to do so before the accident had befallen the late Mr Kennedy, and after having postponed his departure for some days. He did not have the possibility to postpone for even one more day.

This of course had added some concern as to the successful outcome of his mission. But after some nightly reflections which had caused him to loose no little amount of sleep he had assured himself that he was just as likely to be successful on this day as on any other.

Perhaps more so today because it would be so totally unexpected. He was sure that an element of surprise could only be beneficial when trying to convince Scarlett to do something that she might not be completely inclined to do.

Looking at it from her point of view he could certainly see causes for concern. How could she know that marriage could be anything but a burden given the experience she had had with the concept.

Well. He would have to find a way to convince her.

Her grinned to himself. If she wouldn't comply peacefully he would have to resort to other means of persuasion. And wouldn't he enjoy that?


End file.
